


it will not rest, so

by zjofierose



Series: (every now and then) on my mind - Angstober 2019 [13]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: "why can't we just talk about it?"
Relationships: Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Series: (every now and then) on my mind - Angstober 2019 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998550
Kudos: 16





	it will not rest, so

**Author's Note:**

> just a baby ficlet for a prompt from a 2019 Angstober list

“Yuuri,” Phichit’s voice is insistent. “Yuuri, come on,  _ talk _ to me.”

It’s not that Yuuri doesn’t hear him. It’s impossible to ignore Phichit when he wants your attention. It’s just that - as with everything right now - it doesn’t seem to matter. 

Yuuri opens the door to his room, and Phichit wanders in to flop on the bed. 

“Yuuri, why are you leaving? I know the GPF was hard on you, I know you didn’t perform the way you wanted, but Yuuri, you’re still one of the top six skaters in the world!”

“No,” Yuuri answers him dully, folding a t-shirt and placing it in a suitcase. He has a box near the door of things to donate to the campus-adjacent thrift store. It’s half full, but the decision-making of what to keep has been hard. It always is, when he’s like this - everything means nothing, even if he can remember, objectively, that probably he will want his skates; that he should take home his wardrobe if for no other reason than so that he doesn’t have to buy another. “Not after nationals, I’m not.”

“ _ So you fucked up _ ,” Phichit bites out. “Celestino doesn’t care. You can still qualify for everything next year, you’d just have to go to regionals, big deal.”

“I care,” Yuuri says, and he thinks it’s true. It is a thing that he cares about when his emotions decide to surface. Usually this is late at night, in the dark, when he can replay every slipping fall, every aborted jump, every missed step over and over again in the cinema of his mind, silent tears running down his cheeks to soak the pillow beneath them. It’s unpredictable, though - just the other day Yuuri found himself in a McDonald’s with tears running into his McFlurry. He hadn’t even been thinking of anything in particular, he just… started crying. 

“ _ Yuuri _ ,” Phichit says, and his tone is strained. Yuuri feels bad. He knows this is hard on Phichit. “Yuuri, you are throwing your career away over  _ nothing _ .”

_ Nothing _ , Yuuri thinks. That’s accurate. Five long years of nothing. A status in his bank account: nothing. What he has to show for all his hard work: nothing. What he is at the end of the day: nothing. What else could he throw his career away over, really? If he even had one to begin with; he’s not convinced he did. 

“Yuuri,  _ please _ \- why can’t we just talk about it?” Phichit’s got tears standing in his eyes. Yuuri stares at the shirt in his hands. He doesn’t remember picking it up. He’s not sure if he wants it or not. He rolls it up, puts it in his suitcase.

“Phichit, please.” Nothing: the amount of good he is to Phichit. Phichit, his one real friend, the one who has nursed him through the flu and anxiety, bullied him onto the ice, believed in him when Yuuri can’t suspend his disbelief long enough to try. Phichit is the only reason that Yuuri has finished his final paper and managed to graduate before heading back to Hasetsu. Phichit is the only reason Yuuri’s gotten out of bed at all in the last few weeks, if he’s honest. “I haven’t made any decisions yet. I just - I just need some time to think things over. To evaluate.”

Phichit is still crying. Yuuri puts the sweatshirt that’s somehow in his hands down. His knees creak as he stands, and his left ankle pops. He crosses the room and sits down next to his friend. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Phichit-kun.”Yuuri keeps his hands on his knees, but he allows the weight of Phichit’s head to rest on his shoulder. It’s a careful balance they’ve established over the last few years. “I hope you will be well after I am gone.”

“Promise me you’ll think about coming back?” There’s a hurt in Phichit’s voice that drags at Yuuri’s exhaustion. It will be better for Phichit with him back in Japan, Yuuri thinks. Harder for Yuuri to hurt him, then. 

“I promise,” Yuuri says, but he can’t tell past the grey miasma in his chest whether he means it or not.


End file.
